


Cramps and Cwtches

by Jojo_Is_A_Hedgehog



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Poetry, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26875426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojo_Is_A_Hedgehog/pseuds/Jojo_Is_A_Hedgehog
Summary: Post-canon ScotlandDelia isn't feeling well, so Patsy looks after her.
Relationships: Delia Busby/Patsy Mount
Comments: 19
Kudos: 36





	Cramps and Cwtches

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Pupcake Fans! This Sunday, October 11th 8pm GMT there will be a zoom call for all you lovely reader and writer types, hosted by me, SuperBanana and NSH! All AO3 peeps welcome to join in, but zero pressure if the idea is too overwhelming for you. If the idea of participating in a zoom call is too overwhelming you're more than welcome to sign in and keep your camera off and mic muted, contributing via the chat box if you feel so inclined.
> 
> Topic: AO3 Pupcake zoomies  
> Time: Oct 11, 2020 08:00 PM London
> 
> Join Zoom Meeting  
> https://us04web.zoom.us/j/77582794550?pwd=Zk02cEp5YkhwS1VQY2kzTEpWcGw0Zz09
> 
> Meeting ID: 775 8279 4550  
> Passcode: 4gTcTC

The wind was so high Patsy felt like she was being blown through the front door of their little flat. It took some effort to push the door closed. Scotland knew how to do windy she groused in her own head. As she turned to hang up her coat the clicking of claws on the hardwood floor caught her attention. Bemused she watched the scruffy little mutt saunter up to her. Garbo never greeted her at the door, that was a privilege reserved for Delia. But here she was, staring up at her, whining.

“What’s wrong with you?” she frowned, kicking off her shoes and placing them neatly on the rack.

The dog yapped, turned and trotted back to the living room. Normally Patsy would ignore her but something told her she was expected to follow.

When she entered the living room she spied the back of a brunette head, leaning against the arm rest of the chair nearest the door, the dog sitting attentively next to it, whimpering.

“Deels?” She hurried around the chair to kneel in front of her fiancée. “Deels what’s the matter?”

The woman was curled in a tight ball, her skin pale and a little clammy. She tried to offer Patsy a small smile, but it wasn’t very convincing. “It’s just my monthlies Pats, don’t worry.”

“Oh darling.” She instinctively reached out to her love but stopped herself short. “Are you all right for me to touch you?” It didn’t happen very often, but occasionally the smaller woman got twitchy about physical contact at this time of the month. Whenever that time happened to be, her cycle was somewhat irregular.

Delia nodded. “Please.”

The redhead leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on Delia’s cheek, stroking her back soothingly while a dainty hand grasped a handful of the front of her uniform. “How long have you been here like this?”

“Only an hour,” Delia whimpered. “I tried to make it through my shift, but Sister sent me home.”

“You poor old thing.” She hated seeing her love like this. Small paws pressed against her leg and a furry head nudged her arm. Patsy sat up to allow Garbo better access to their mutually preferred member of the household. “At least you had good company.”

Scratching the dog’s ears Delia chuckled lightly. “She hasn’t left my side.”

Patsy watched her little family contently for a moment until the dog scurried off out the door. Delia’s now unoccupied fingers sought out Patsy’s, squeezing as a wave of pain drifted over here.

“Do you need help getting to the bathroom my love?”

Delia shook her head. “Everything’s in place. I managed that at least.”

“All right,” Patsy sighed, glancing around to see what might be useful in the room. “How about we get you comfortable on the sofa for now? At least until we can get some painkillers down you.”

The brunette took a deep breath before nodding and attempting to sit up. Patsy leapt in to take as much pressure off the younger woman as possible, half carrying her the few steps to the sofa, settling her on her side with a cushion under her head.

“Can you hang on here for a few moments while I get a couple of things?”

Delia rolled her eyes. “No Patsy I thought I’d go for a quick jog up and down the stairs,” she snipped.

Patsy didn’t take it personally, she just cocked her head at the brunette, who sheepishly hid her face in the cushion.

“Sorry,” Delia groaned, a blush brightening her cheeks.

“I forgive you,” the redhead chuckled as she left the room. She returned quickly with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin in hand. “Kettle’s just boiling. Better get these down you.”

“Fat lot of good they do,” Delia grumbled, sitting up. “Wish they’d sell something more effective over-the-counter.” She threw the tablets into her mouth and took a healthy gulp of water to chase them down.

“Maybe it’s time you spoke to Dr Richmond, see if he’d prescribe you something stronger?” Patsy gently guided the glass back to Delia’s mouth when she tried to hand it to her. “All of it please, knowing you you’re dehydrated as well.”

Delia glowered at her but did as she was told, swiftly emptying the glass, pressing it into Patsy’s hand just as the kettle began to whistle down the hallway.

“I take it an extra spoonful of sugar is in order?” the redhead smirked as she stood.

“Please,” Delia groaned as she flopped back down on the cushions.

As she rummaged on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard, Patsy knew she might be getting a little carried away. But what did it really matter? She got so few opportunities to look after her love that she might as well spoil her a bit. If only she could find the damned box! Clambering up onto the counter she glared into the empty space. Delia must have put it away somewhere else. But where?

After loading up the tea tray she made a quick pitstop via the bedroom, glancing around for inspiration. Delia really was a nightmare for putting things away. Then her eyes landed on the dresser.

Dropping to her knees she pulled out the bottom drawer, lifting away a pile of Delia’s winter jumpers. Of course. There was the distinctive deep purple box, sat alongside their birth certificates, passports, a selection of colourful buttons and seashells, a silver teaspoon commemorating the coronation of the queen, and a pair of shiny sovereigns minted the years she and Delia were born. Sometimes Patsy swore she was living with a magpie.

Placing the box on the tray, Patsy’s eye was caught by the small pile of books on Delia’s bedside table. She doubted Delia would be moving from the sofa anytime soon, she’d want something to keep her occupied until she inevitably dozed of, so Patsy grabbed the book on top of the pile, a slim volume of poetry by the looks of it.

Tray now suitably laden, she returned to her love’s side and deposited her bounty on the coffee table.

“Here we go old thing,” she said softly as she tucked a hot water bottle against Delia’s lower back. She smiled at the grateful groan.

“You really are an angel,” murmured Delia.

“Sadly mortal my darling,” chuckled the redhead. “Do you want help sitting up?”

Delia shook her head, propping herself up enough to accept the cup of rich tea.

Patsy then presented her with the box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray. “And for the lady?” she offered, heightening her accent.

“Pats no!” Delia exclaimed, frowning at her. “Those were your birthday present from Trixie.”

“Is that why you hid them so well?” the redhead smirked, lifting the lid and the protective layer of paper.

A withering look was directed her way. “You said you wanted to keep them for a special occasion.”

“Any chance I get to spoil you is a special occasion Deels.” Patsy let her lopsided smile shine through, turning on the charm. “And what do we have here?” She plucked Delia’s favourite chocolate out of the tray. “There’s even a lime cordial left!”

“Wee barrel Pats, it’s called a wee barrel,” Delia sighed, eyeing up the treat. She reached out to take it from Patsy’s fingers.

But Patsy pulled her hand away. “Not according to the box it isn’t.”

Delia simply glowered at her, and Patsy relented, she shouldn’t be teasing her fiancée when she was in this state. So she brought the wee barrel to Delia’s lips, the brunette opening her mouth wide to receive it only to nip Patsy’s fingertips as she claimed the chocolate.

Patsy gasped in false scandal. “You minx!”

The almost grin on Delia’s face was reward enough. Hopefully that meant the aspirin was starting to do it’s job. Patsy claimed the last strawberry sundae for herself, a choice of chocolate Delia always declared was incongruous with her character, and set the box aside.

“I grabbed one of your books,” Patsy informed her darling Deels as she picked up the remaining item on the tray. “In case you wanted to read while I start on supper?”

Delia glanced down, plucking at the sofa cushion. “Will you read to me Pats?”

“You need to eat Deels,” Patsy sighed. It would be so easy to give in and just cuddle up with her fiancée but she had to be practical.

“Please?” Delia asked softly. “I’m not going to be interested in food until these rotten cramps settle down, and we’ve hardly spent any time together lately.

The welshwoman wasn’t wrong. With their ever changing shift patterns the majority of the time where they were both in the flat was spent sleeping. And sometimes even that was only two or three hours when Patsy was on-call.

She mulled it over for a moment, before settling on the floor. “All right then. What did I pick up?” She glanced at the cover of the book in her hand. “e e cummings? What happened to capitalising names?”

“He’s a modernist poet Pats, he does things a little unconventionally.”

“A modernist?” groaned Patsy. “If I’d known you were going to make me read aloud I’d have made a more informed choice,” she grumbled. The book was littered with receipts that she assumed Delia was using as bookmarks. Choosing one at random, she opened the volume. “All right, let’s see what he’s made of.” But before she could register the words on the page a hand clutched at the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Will you lie down and cwtch with me Patsy?” Delia pleaded, tugging at the fabric she held. “Just for a little while?”

Patsy knew how this would end; with Delia asleep on top of her leaving the redhead with no means to escape to the kitchen. Oh well, in for a penny…

She let the corner of her mouth twitch up into a small smile as she took a deep breath. “All right then budge up.”

Delia shuffled back as far as she could and Patsy lay down beside her, the brunette head quickly settling on her shoulder as she wrapped her arm around her fiancée.

A small sigh escaped Delia as she settled into a comfortable position. “This is nice,” she murmured against Patsy’s throat, her breath bringing goosebumps to the redhead’s skin. Moments like this had been too few and far between recently.

“Where would you like me to start?” Patsy enquired quietly. Delia’s only response was a shrug, so again she picked one of the bookmarks at random.

“9.

there are so many tictoc

clocks everywhere telling people

what toctic time it is for

tictic instance five toc minutes toc

past six tic

Seriously Deels, how is this supposed to be read?!”

Delia giggled against her side. “Oh come on Pats, I thought you were trained to recite from a young age?”

“Yes, but iambic pentameter and traditional meter, not whatever this is!” grumbled Patsy. “Sister Mary Aquina would have had a fit if she found this in her classroom.”

Another giggle was followed by a gentle kiss to her jaw. “You’re doing just fine cariad, keep going.”

Patsy glowered at the page.

“Spring is not regulated and does

not get out of order nor do

its hands a little jerking move

over numbers slowly

we do not

wind it up it has no weights

springs wheels inside of

its slender self no indeed dear

nothing of the kind.

(So,when kiss Spring comes

we'll kiss each kiss other on kiss the kiss

lips because tic clocks toc don't make

a toctic difference

to kisskiss you and to

kiss me)”

Frowning, Patsy turned the page. “I don’t understand poets like this. I pity whoever has to set the type to print these.” Her eyes widened at the sight of the next poem.

r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r

r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r

who

a)s w(e loo)k

upnowgath

PPEGORHRASS

eringint(o-

aThe):l

eA

!p:

S a

(r

rIvInG .gRrEaPsPhOs)

to

rea(be)rran(com)gi(e)ngly

,grasshopper;

“Now this one has got to be a misprint!”

Hair tickled her cheek as Delia raised her head to get a better look at the page. “Oh that one.”

“That’s definitely not a poem.”

“It is actually, it’s about a grasshopper,” Delia explained lightly as she settled back down on Patsy’s shoulder. “I’ll explain it to you when I’m less foggy.”

“Are these even meant to be read aloud?” Patsy exclaimed, flicking through pages of curious formatting and distinctly lacking punctuation and capitalisation.

“Of course they are,” yawned Delia. “Try the Songs section, you might get on better with those.”

“I’m not singing Deels.” She was rewarded with a pinch to her waist. She found the suggested section and cleared her throat.

“Songs (IX)

when god lets my body be

From each brave eye shall sprout a—”

The book was grabbed out of her hand before she’d even realised Delia had moved.

“On second thoughts…” Delia trailed off, turning pages.

“What’s wrong with that one?” Patsy queried, her fingers stroking up and down Delia’s arm.

“It’s just…not the sort of mood we’re after. Here.” She handed the book back.

Amores. Of course Delia was in a soppy mood. Love poems it was then.

“Amores (I)

your little voice

Over the wires came leaping

and i felt suddenly

dizzy”

The redhead found herself being transported back three Christmases, to just moments before she had jogged out of Nonnatus House to make her way to Whittle Street.

“With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers

wee skipping high-heeled flames

courtesied before my eyes

or twinkling over to my side

Looked up

with impertinently exquisite faces

floating hands were laid upon me

I was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing

up

Up

with the pale important

stars and the Humorous

moon

dear girl

How i was crazy how i cried when i heard

over time

and tide and death

leaping

Sweetly

your voice”

Thoughts of snow and red telephone boxes were interrupted by the very voice the poem reminded her of.

“See?” Patsy could feel Delia smiling against her throat. “That one wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“All right,” sighed Patsy, “Maybe he has some talent for the evocative.” She turned the page, not yet willing to admit she was growing curious.

“Amores III

there is a

moon sole

in the blue

night

amorous of waters

tremulous,

blinded with silence the

undulous heaven yearns where

in tense starlessness

anoint with ardor

the yellow lover

stands in the dumb dark

svelte

and

urgent

(again

love i slowly

gather

of thy languorous mouth the

thrilling

flower)”

Releasing a long breath, Patsy’s eyebrows slowly relaxed back down to their usual position. “You could have warned me he gets racey.”

Delia simply held her closer. “Where would be the fun in that?”

“Should I be worried about the next one?” asked Patsy, already scanning the following page for provocative vocabulary.

“I think you’re safe for the next few sweetheart.” Delia yawned again. “Please keep going. It’s really nice just being able to listen to your voice.”

Letting her fingers wander into Delia’s hair, Patsy licked her lips and focused back on the page.

“Amores V

as is the sea marvelous

from god's

hands which sent her forth

to sleep upon the world

and the earth withers

the moon crumbles

one by one

stars flutter into dust”

Delia’s head was growing heavier, seemingly being sent forth to sleep herself.

“but the sea

does not change

and she goes forth out of hands and

she returns into hands

and is with sleep....

love,

the breaking

of your

soul

upon

my lips”

Allowing a moment of silence, Patsy listened to Delia’s even breaths, enjoying the feeling of silky strands under her fingertips, and the simple warmth of her love against her side. She’d thought Delia would last a bit longer than this but the poor thing was clearly exhausted.

She didn’t dare move yet. She could wait a little longer, just until Delia was more deeply asleep so she wouldn’t disturb her.

Glancing back at the book in her hands she realised she had nothing better to do.

Amores II

in the rain-

darkness,the sunset

being sheathed i sit and

think of you

the holy

city which is your face

your little cheeks the streets

of smiles

your eyes half-

thrush

half-angel and your drowsy

lips where float flowers of kiss

and

there is the sweet shy pirouette

your hair

and then

your dancesong

soul.rarely-beloved

a single star is

uttered,and i

think

of you

Patsy supposed this Cummings fellow wasn’t so bad. For a modernist.

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned into a bit of a poetry study, and I'm not sure if I'm apologising for that or not. I am not a poetry fan but Cummings is apparently more interesting than I expected, and as I read more of the Amores poems they just kept making me think of our girls. So here we are.
> 
> I hope some of you enjoyed it.
> 
> Thanks go to Shady and Wheely_Jessi for nudging me through this one, it took a while.


End file.
